The Pilgrimage, Book II: Part 29 / Phillip Neal Tippin

In what sense do you save
Such a removable soul?

Stumbled out of a less than stellar day
Which I left ajar with a numb jarred mind

Not nests of cedar
But weave
An upright heart of string

You have to get halfway through
To believe that this time is real.

The infinite scale of
One to one.

Clambering past like confession
Much un-negotiable terrain.

All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2020-2023 by Phillip Neal Tippin. All rights reserved.

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